An Alik'r Warriors Tale
by jonanonathan
Summary: Kahrell, the leader of a group of mercenaries hunt a lone necromancer in the deserts of Hammerfell, what starts out as an every day contract soon turns into something completely unexpected and deadly.


Chapter One – An Alik'r Warriors tale.

The morning sun baked the ochre sand dunes and the cacti that thrived around them. Two hundred paces outside the city of Gilane, Kahrell and his fellow mercenaries approached the northern gate. Three days travel through the Alik'r desert had left them at half strength, but that would have to do, this would be the only chance of completing the contract.

Kahrell lead the group as he waded through the ankle high sand, hot as a Dov's fire and it wasn't even noon. The journey through the desert had been mostly traveled at night to resist the sweltering temperatures. During the day they had slept in fissures of the many rocky cliffs and ridges in the wasteland, or under palm trees that had promising shade. Kahrell yearned at the thought of sleep, they had been traveling since midnight at the least, and they didn't bring horses with them making the whole trip that much more difficult.

The dry wind blew harsh for a moment as Judo spoke up from behind, "Damn this city, last time I was here the bastard crowns were around, stinking up the place," Kahrell turned to look at the brute- tall, strong, and a long braided beard. The man was the definition of a warrior.

 _He's been here before huh? Have to ask him why later,_ "Relax, we shouldn't be here long Judo. Just keep that scimitar loose in your scabbard." Kahrell looked back towards the city wall which now towered over head as they reached the gate, an archway that that looked to be the height of almost five men. Judo grunted from behind, and the groups lone female spoke up once they passed through the entrance into the market place, "So wanna elaborate on the target now, Kahrell?" She asked with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

Kahrell walked on ignoring her at first, the street was a cobbled mess made narrow by the numerous carts and wagons engulfing the road. They pushed through a crowd of men and women surrounding a spice merchant, the dusty street was buzzing with citizens and traders, "A mage Landra. A Khajiit caravan caught the fool practicing necromancy in some cemetery, down right disgusting." Landra and Judo spat as soon as he said mage. The assassin rounded a corner with his companions following suit.

They walked for a time in silence as they came to edge of the town square but instead of going forward Kahrell took a right passing in front of guards patrolling on horses; Skyrim breed, strong, sturdy, _surprising they can stand the heat given Skyrim is bloody freezing_. He continued with his warriors behind him, they came to a dark alleyway with a tavern half the ways down to the right.

Judo spoke up from his left, "Magic is bad yet, but messing with the dead," he paused looking at Kahrell shaking his head, an unspoken agreement of opinions flashed through the two, _damn mages and their witchcraft_. "So when was the man last seen? How do we even know he's here?" Landra asked from his other side. He looked her over with a keen eye, the gal was easy on the eyes, a sharp prominent face, curvaceous body, and a deep brown hair the flowed loose down her back.

"Well depending on the fact that the southern gates been closed and no one can go through, and he was last saw here, the man has to he close." Kahrell responded with exasperation and continued to the tavern. A sign dangled above the doorway read; _The Sandy Shack,_ Kahrell looked up the thing and groaned, he was tired and could use a cold ale. Not waiting for him to enter Judo walked through first with Landra next, the merc swung open the door and stepped into the inn and waited a moment for his eyes to adjust. The room was rather large with a fireplace in the middle of a few benches and stools with a bar off to the right.

Judo swaggered over to the bar making his presence known to the few folk that resided in the place. "Three ales, and make it quick," barked Judo resting against the bar catching his breath. Suddenly realizing he was covered in sweat Kahrell walked to the back of the room and sat down next to an elderly man.

The old man stared at Kahrell, it was obvious he knew what he was, his garb and what it stood for was common knowledge in Hammerfell. "Got someone to prick here in Gilane eh?" The wrinkled native questioned. The old coot looked to be half drunk and his breath smelled of molded bread. Kahrell looked away and sighed as Judo and Landra strode over.

"Get out of here you old fool!" Hissed Judo spurting bits of ale from him his beard. Kahrell looked to see the man stagger away, _old men have no place in this world._ Landra sat next to him handing him his drink, "Charging three gold pieces for an ale, robbery if you ask me," the woman said taking a swig of the alcohol then setting the tankard down on her lap.

"What do you expect? Damned taxes and what not driving prices up for everything," grunted Judo as filled in the elders seat. Kahrell closed his eyes and took a gulp of the ale, letting it wash down his dry mouth and refresh his swirling mind. _Only a few more days till the contract expires, damn it all to oblivion._ Landra nudged him after a while, opening his eyes as he turned to face her, "Your friend over there is talking to some lad and he's pointing at you," Kahrell looked to the scene and saw a burly nord with tan skin, rare among the nords.

The man approached, he was wearing studded leather armor with a long sword swung over his back. "You, Alik'r, I got business with you." Stated the nord who stood firm two arm lengths from Kahrell and his mercs. Kahrell rolled his soldiers and cracked his back, groaning he stood up and faced the northerner, "What brings you to the Alik'r Desert friend?" He asked smoothly stretching his arms in welcoming gesture.

The warrior spat at his feet, "Bloody red guard, don't 'ya know who your talking to?" He rumbled clenching his fist. Judo stood up and unsheathed his scimitar, "Listen here blondee unless you want your guts spilled," he chugged the rest of his ale and cast it aside, he was prepared to fight. "Stop Judo," Kahrell said with a dead serious tone, "Clearly the man is fooled to who we are." Kahrell put a hand on Judo's shoulder and pushed him back into his chair.

Glancing to Landra who had a hand on her orchish steel dagger, he returned his gaze to the nord. "So what is the problem?" Kahrell said with a less friendly tone then before. The room was quiet as they stared at the confrontation, the nord blew air out of his nose and spoke, "You and your group came through Riften, looking for some unlucky soul," he stopped for a moment to let them remember, _ah hell, he must mean that low life who double crossed Krol_ , "You found him in the Ratway, cut him down, took your coin and left. That lad was my kin you red skinned dogs!" He roared and took a step towards him reaching for his long sword, before he laid his hand on the pommel Kahren lunged forwards scimitars in each hand.

Kahren made a quick jab with his right driving the sword into the mans flank, and with the other slashed sideways cutting the mans face and jaw. Blood poured from the nords side as well as his face, falling to his knees the nord gasped for air and made out a raspy sentence, "Damn... you... re-" Kahrell chopped down and cut the mans head off clean.

The room was still, the maiden and the bystanders stood in shock as the old man started to laugh. "Aye, knew you were here to stick someone!"


End file.
